In fixing the meaning of the Technical Terms which form the Terminology of any science, at least of the descriptive Terms, we necessarily fix, at the same time, the perceptions and notions which the Terms are to convey to a hearer. What do we mean by apple-green or French grey? It might, perhaps, be supposed that, in the first example, the term apple, referring to so familiar an object, sufficiently suggests the colour intended. But it may easily be seen that this is not true; for apples are of many different hues of green, and it is only by a conventional selection that we can appropriate the term to one special shade. When this appropriation is once made, the term refers to the sensation, and not to the parts of this term; for these enter into the compound merely as a help to the memory, whether the suggestion be a natural connexion as in ‘apple-green,’ or a casual one as in ‘French grey.’ In order to derive due advantage from technical terms of this kind, they must be associated immediately with the perception to which they belong; and not connected with it through the vague usages of common language. The memory must retain the sensation; and the technical word must be understood as directly as the most familiar word, and more distinctly. When we find such terms as tin-white or pinchbeck-brown, the metallic colour so denoted ought to start up in our memory without delay or search. 315
This, which it is most important to recollect with respect to the simpler properties of bodies, as colour and form, is no less true with respect to more compound notions. In all cases the term is fixed to a peculiar meaning by convention; and the student, in order to use the word, must be completely familiar with the convention, so that he has no need to frame conjectures from the word itself. Such conjectures would always be insecure, and often erroneous. Thus the term papilionaceous, applied to a flower, is employed to indicate, not only a resemblance to a butterfly, but a resemblance arising from five petals of a certain peculiar shape and arrangement; and even if the resemblance to a butterfly were much stronger than it is in such cases, yet if it were produced in a different way, as, for example, by one petal, or two only, instead of a ‘standard,’ two ‘wings,’ and a ‘keel’ consisting of two parts more or less united into one, we should no longer be justified in speaking of it as a ‘papilionaceous’ flower.
The formation of an exact and extensive descriptive language for botany has been executed with a degree of skill and felicity, which, before it was attained, could hardly have been dreamt of as attainable. Every part of a plant has been named; and the form of every part, even the most minute, has had a large assemblage of descriptive terms appropriated to it, by means of which the botanist can convey and receive knowledge of form and structure, as exactly as if each minute part were presented to him vastly magnified. This acquisition was part of the Linnæan Reform, of which we have spoken in the History. ‘Tournefort,’ says De Candolle[50], ‘appears to have been the first who really perceived the utility of fixing the sense of terms in such a way as always to employ the same word in the same sense, and always to express the same idea by the same word; but it was Linnæus who really created and fixed this botanical language, and this is his fairest claim to glory, for by this fixation of language he has shed clearness and precision over all parts of the science.’
[50] Théor. Élém. p. 327. 316
It is not necessary here to give any detailed account of the terms of botany. The fundamental ones have been gradually introduced, as the parts of plants were more carefully and minutely examined. Thus the flower was successively distinguished into the calyx, the corolla, the stamens, and the pistils: the sections of the corolla were termed petals by Columna; those of the calyx were called sepals by Necker[51]. Sometimes terms of greater generality were devised; as perianth to include the calyx and corolla, whether one or both of these were present[52]; pericarp for the part inclosing the grain, of whatever kind it be, fruit, nut, pod, &c. And it may easily be imagined that descriptive terms may, by definition and combination, become very numerous and distinct. Thus leaves may be called pinnatifid[53], pinnnatipartite, pinnatisect, pinnatilobate, palmatifid, palmatipartite, &c., and each of these words designates different combinations of the modes and extent of the divisions of the leaf with the divisions of its outline. In some cases arbitrary numerical relations are introduced into the definition: thus a leaf is called bilobate[54] when it is divided into two parts by a notch; but if the notch go to the middle of its length, it is bifid; if it go near the base of the leaf, it is bipartite; if to the base, it is bisect. Thus, too, a pod of a cruciferous plant is a silica[55] if it be four times as long as it is broad, but if it be shorter than this it is a silicula. Such terms being established, the form of the very complex leaf or frond of a fern is exactly conveyed, for example, by the following phrase: ‘fronds rigid pinnate, pinnæ recurved subunilateral pinnatifid, the segments linear undivided or bifid spinuloso-serrate[56].’
[51] De Candolle, 329.
[52] For this Erhart and De Candolle use Perigone.
[53] De Candolle, 318.
[54] Ibid. 493.
[55] Ibid. 422.